Need Some Sleep
by xDrEaMeRx4xEVA
Summary: One does not simply have a fling with Derek Hale. Derek is one of the most complicated guys Stiles has ever met, nothing is simple about their relationship, and Stiles is trying not to instinctively find a way out. There are so many ways in which real emotions can lead to real heartbreak. Derek isn't the only emotionally constipated one.


_**Title**: Need Some Sleep_  
_**Pairings**: Sterek (Stiles and Derek)  
**Characters**: Stiles and Derek, brief mention of Papa Stilinski  
**Warnings:** Spoilers for 3x05, vague references to panic attacks  
**Author's Note**: Around 3am I started working myself up into a panic attack, so in order to rid myself of such thoughts I wrote this. Mind-you, I wrote it in a fit of semi-hysteria and it is more or less me projecting my worries onto Stiles, so most of it probably doesn't make sense, but it made me feel better :)_

* * *

It hits him heavily in the pit of his stomach, traveling upwards in a dangerous rhythm until it's beating loudly against his sternum. It dances around his ribcage hungrily, eating away at all rationality, begging to explode from chapped lips in fits of bubbling insanity.

He briefly thinks of his father down the hall, but a quick glance at his phone tells him it's 3 in the morning. His dad didn't get home until 12:30 and he has an early shift at 6am; Stiles isn't about to go wake him up (no matter how much his dad wishes he would talk to him when he has "problems").

With a shaky sigh he rolls onto his stomach, fingers pinching underneath his pillow tightly. He's normally too exhausted to lay in bed while dangerous thoughts threaten to take over his mind, but tonight crept up unexpectedly and his breath hitches.

Of all things he should be panicking about (werewolves, killer Grandpas, alpha packs, virgin sacrifices), it's his fucking love life that has him scared shitless. The one time he might actually _have_ a love life and he's too scared to do anything about it. The irony is a bitter taste on his tongue.

For the longest time he's felt like he's been running on automatic, the words he force tasting as fake as his sarcasm. It's been a long time since he's genuinely felt the weight of an emotion scratching across his mind, a silent reminder of _oh, this is what happiness feels like, I was just happy_.

But now emotions are twisting in a constant state of annoyance and attraction, and Stiles can still taste the tang of copper when he bit the inside of his cheek when Scott had said mournfully "Derek's dead".

Stiles buries his head deeper into his pillow as he recalls the phantom brush of lips against his earlier that night. The stupid alpha had stumbled through his window, causing Stiles to almost fall out of his computer chair in shock. The guy looked just as put together as ever (and totally not dead at all), so Stiles wasn't too worried when he launched himself at Derek, kissing him until he was breathless (and wasn't he always doing reckless things without thinking about the consequences?).

But instead of growling and throwing Stiles off of him, Derek had gripped the collar of Stiles' shirt, their teeth clacking in a desperate attempt to get closer. Then the front door had opened signaling the Sheriff's arrival and Derek had been puling away, eyes studying Stiles seriously, before disappearing into the night.

And now Stiles is having a panic attack because, oh god it feels so real. He likes Derek. He really, really likes him. And he's terrified.

One does not simply have a fling with Derek Hale. Derek is one of the most complicated guys Stiles has ever met, nothing is simple about their relationship, and Stiles is trying not to instinctively find a way out. There are so many ways in which real emotions can lead to real heartbreak.

Derek isn't the only emotionally constipated one.

Liking Derek (_really_ liking Derek) is dangerous for a couple of reasons. 1. Derek is constantly "dying".

2. …Well, Stiles thinks one is dangerous enough (though he could come up with thousands more if he had to), but one is enough to send his heart galloping across his chest again.

It's this thought that has him sitting up, a scream on his lips when he sees a figure at the end of his bed.

"Jesus, Stiles, what the hell is wrong?" Derek hisses, his eyebrows raised in annoyance. He's standing there like he hadn't been recently thought "dead" and then kissed Stiles before disappearing into the night, and Stiles really wants to slap him. So he does.

"Ow. Ow, okay, that was a stupid idea. Don't let me ever do that again," Stiles cradles his hand to his chest. Derek stares at him with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and amusement swirling in their depths. The guy's cheek isn't even pink. "Asshole," Stiles mutters, causing Derek to raise his eyebrows again.

"_You_ slap _me_ and _I'm_ the asshole?"

"Yes," Stiles grumbles stubbornly. Derek rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as if waiting for Stiles to explain himself. Stiles remains silent. Finally Derek uncrosses his arms in a huff of breath.

"Why am I an asshole?"

"Because I like you. And you kissed me before running off. Oh, right after we thought you were dead, too. But mainly cause I like you," Stiles shrugs, words coming out fast and slurred together. Amusement shines bright in Derek's eyes and he reaches out to card his fingers through Stiles' hair.

"I like your hair long."

"Uh—thanks?" Stiles pauses at the non-sequitur before taking a breath. "Why aren't you more angry and growly about this, o emotionally unavailable one?" The grip in Stiles' hair tightens before disappearing entirely, and Stiles has to bite his lips to keep from whining at the loss.

"I almost died," is Derek's response. He shrugs then and presses a light kiss to Stiles' mouth. "It changes a guy's priorities a little. But I'm not going anywhere so stop panicking." Stiles opens his mouth to complain but Derek is pushing him into the mattress with light touches and soft kisses. "Sleep, and we will talk in the morning."

"You like me, too, though, right?" Stiles asks sleepily, his eyes already drifting shut.

"Yeah, Stiles, I like you, too." A warm hand gently squeezes Stiles' fingers, and Stiles is still terrified of what this might all mean, but when he feels Derek's lips press against his temple, he figures he'll be okay.


End file.
